


Stay With Me

by BeneaththeHalo



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: BBC Merlin Fest, First Kiss, M/M, Merlin looking after Arthur, sick!arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1539695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeneaththeHalo/pseuds/BeneaththeHalo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a coughing illness takes hold of the lower town as well as the castle's servants, it isn't long before it also claims the king. Of course, it falls on Merlin to look after Arthur while he's sick, and while he is prepared for all manner of protests about remaining in bed, he ISN'T prepared for what Arthur asks him to do.<br/>Posted as part of the BBC Merlin Fest on Tumblr, for Prompt 4- favourite pairing.<br/>Go Team Arthur!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

> I based Arthur's symptoms off of an illness I've had twice now, which believe me, is not fun. I know exactly how he feels!

As he hurried back to Gaius’s chambers to gather more medicine for the fourth time that day, Merlin took the opportunity to wipe the sweat from his brow. A strong and persistent coughing illness had swept the lower town as well as a number of servants over the past week, and Gaius and Merlin were stretched to their limit trying to get on top of it. There seemed to be no cure to the illness, either- all Merlin and Gaius could do was give their patients medicine to make them more comfortable and ease their pain, and then wait until they recovered. Luckily the illness seemed to not be deadly, except in the most severe of cases and those who were already weak or infirm.

Before Merlin could return to the lower town with the medicine, however, Leon came running up to him. “Thank goodness I found you, Merlin,” he said, and Merlin could hear the slight note of concern in his voice.

“Leon?” he asked, coming to an abrupt stop. “What’s the matter?”

“Have you seen Arthur this morning?”

“Not since I fetched him his breakfast. I’ve been too busy helping Gaius,” Merlin admitted. “He was still in bed when I left him. Why? What’s the matter?”

“I went to find Arthur, because he hadn’t shown up for training,” Leon said, and already Merlin was beginning to worry. “When I found him he was still in bed, doubled over and coughing. Merlin, I think he has that illness that’s infected the lower town.

“Damn it,” Merlin whispered under his breath. Not Arthur. Why did Arthur have to get sick? Merlin was torn between both fear for Arthur’s condition and annoyance at the king. Merlin knew from experience that Arthur was a shoddy patient at best. He never listened, never believed that he should take his medicine, because damn it, Merlin, I don’t need that stuff and I’ll recover on my own, and never really believed that he should restrict himself when he was ill.

“I’ll see to him,” Merlin finally said to Leon. “Can you take this to Gaius in the lower town, and tell him where I am? He’ll probably want to see to Arthur as well, and see how serious his condition is.”

Leon gave Merlin a look that he knew meant good luck as he took the medicine from Merlin’s hand, before nodding and heading off to find Gaius. Merlin instead turned in the opposite direction, walking towards Arthur’s chambers with a growing feeling of trepidation. Merlin knew he was going to find one of two things when he arrived. One was a king so sick he could barely move, unable to even breathe in without coughing and experiencing terrible chest pain, or an Arthur who was well enough to complain to Merlin about being treated as an invalid and refusing to rest. Merlin didn’t know which one was worse.

Merlin pushed open the door to Arthur’s chambers slowly, only to find that the rooms beyond appeared to be completely deserted. “Arthur?” he called out. “Arthur, are you in here?”

The only response to Merlin was a groaning noise-the sound of somebody in pain. Worried now, Merlin followed the noise until he found Arthur lying in bed clutching at his chest and curled up in obvious pain. “Damn, Arthur…” Merlin hurried towards the bed, dropping down on his knees beside Arthur. The king’s eyes were screwed shut against the pain, and Merlin was nearly certain that Arthur had no idea he was there.

“Arthur? Arthur, it’s me, Merlin.” When Arthur still didn’t respond, Merlin reached out and squeezed his shoulder, rubbing his thumb over it gently. Finally Arthur opened his eyes, looking up blearily at his manservant.

“Merlin?” he croaked, before hurriedly covering his mouth with his hand and coughing loudly into it. It was several minutes before he stopped, looking up at Merlin again. “What…?”

“Ssh, Arthur, don’t speak,” Merlin whispered. “It’s only going to make you start coughing again, and I know how much that coughing hurts.” Merlin reached for the jug of water he’d left there that morning, pouring out a cup. “Can you sit up a little?”

Arthur struggled, before managing to weakly hoist himself up onto one arm. Merlin put the cup to his lips. “Drink this. It should help clear your throat.”

“I can hold-” Arthur started, but Merlin cut him off.

“No, you can’t. You’re not strong enough. I’ve been treating people with this illness for a week now, Arthur, so I know you feel very weak right now. Just drink the damn water, okay?”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Arthur whispered, but he did what Merlin instructed. “That’s better.”

“Told you so,” said Merlin with a smirk, setting the cup back down. Arthur let his arm give out and fell back down onto the bed, letting out a weak sigh. “Gaius will be here soon. Leon went to go fetch him from the lower town.”

“Good,” Arthur croaked. “Maybe he can stop this blasted cough.” As if on cue, Arthur starting coughing again, great shuddering coughs that seemed to radiate through his whole body and echo around his chambers.

“Maybe you should stop talking,” Merlin suggested.

“I am your king, Merlin, you can’t-”

“Arthur? Shut up,” said Merlin. Arthur mustered up his best glower, but in his weakened state the result was almost pitiful. It almost made being the one to tell Arthur to shut up for once not worth it. Almost. “You need to conserve your strength and stop speaking to save your throat, my lord.”

Before either man could say anything else, there was a hurried knock at the door. “That will be Gaius,” said Merlin, getting up to see who it was anyway just in case. He may have been teasing Arthur (he didn’t get very many opportunities, and he was confident the king would recover from his illness so he was going to make the most of it), but he knew Arthur wouldn’t want anyone else to see him so weak. He could be a proud man, sometimes.

Luckily, though, when Merlin opened the door it was Gaius standing on the other side. “How is he?” the physician asked.

“He’s weak,” Merlin admitted. “He can barely lift himself up, and every other time he tries to talk, he coughs so much it sounds like he’s going to throw up a lung.” Merlin stepped aside to allow Gaius into the rooms beyond. “He’s not going to like you seeing him like this,” Merlin said quietly.

“I know. He never has liked anyone seeing him when he’s sick,” Gaius sighed. “But he doesn’t really have a choice, if he wants this illness to pass as quickly as possible.”

Gaius moved into Arthur’s bedchambers, where the king was attempting to sit up in bed. “Gaius,” Arthur said, before once again starting to cough.

“You shouldn’t speak, sire,” Gaius told him.

“So Merlin told me,” Arthur said, as quiet as possible while still being heard. Both men could still hear the frustration in his voice, though.

“He’s not very happy with me trying to tell him what to do, or the idea of being confined to bed and not being able to do anything until the illness passes,” Merlin informed Gaius.

“Good,” said Gaius. “That’s a sign the illness isn’t too serious, if Arthur at least has the strength to try and behave as normal. If he wanted to stay in bed, then I’d be worried.”

“I do have a kingdom to run,” Arthur said.

“Not right now, you don’t,” Merlin admonished. When Arthur went to protest further, Merlin said, “Please Arthur, don’t. I don’t want to see you get any worse. And should you really be sitting up?”

“Some of those infected with the coughing illness find they are in less pain and it’s easier to breathe if their sitting up as opposed to lying down,” Gaius explained. “Now if you’ll allow me to take a closer look, Arthur…” Gaius moved in to examine Arthur, before stepping back. “He doesn’t have a fever, although that may come later. More importantly, he does seem to still have quite good lung capacity. With time, and rest, you’ll be fine, sire.”

“I’m not staying in bed,” said Arthur, making to throw back the sheets. Merlin reached out and gripped his hand, though, holding him in place. Normally Arthur would be able to resist Merlin’s grasp, but his illness left him too weak to do so. He sighed. “Fine.”

“I should return to my other patients,” Gaius said, making to leave the room. “You’ll look after Arthur, won’t you, Merlin?”

“Wh-what?” Merlin spluttered. “Why? Do I have to? Arthur’s insufferable when he’s sick!”

“Who else would do it?” Gaius pointed out. “You are his manservant, after all. And Arthur is our most important patient, seeing as he is the king. He will require constant care to make sure his condition doesn’t worsen.”

“No I don’t,” said Arthur automatically, but the violent coughing that followed suggested otherwise.

“You need my help,” Merlin said.

“I can ask Gwen to help me,” Gaius said, and Merlin sighed. “Excellent. I’ll ask a servant to prepare the chambers next door for you to sleep in. You should stay as close as possible, just in case.”

“Of course, Gaius, that sounds like an excellent idea,” said Merlin sarcastically.

Gaius raised an eyebrow. “I best be leaving. Look after him, Merlin.” And then Gaius was gone.

Merlin sat there for a long moment, cursing the fact that he was the personal manservant to an insufferable prat, before a slight movement made him realise that he was still holding Arthur’s hand. “Oh, sorry,” he said before letting go. Even though he really, really didn’t want to, and he wasn’t sorry at all. The only thing he was sorry about was that it made Arthur uncomfortable.

“You should get some more sleep,” Merlin suggested, trying to break the uncomfortable silence. “It might help.”

“I’m not tired,” said Arthur, even as he sank back down into the bedclothes.

“Sleep, Arthur,” said Merlin gently. “I’ll have food waiting for you when you wake.”

It took Arthur a while to fall asleep, probably due to his difficulty breathing judging by the rattling sounds Merlin could hear. Eventually he did, though, and Arthur relaxed, his breath evening out as much as it could at the moment.

Arthur looked very peaceful while he was sleeping, Merlin realised. He wasn’t the all-powerful, wise, and noble king. He wasn’t the brave and talented knight who seemed unbeatable. He was Arthur, just Arthur, a man Merlin liked to think only he could see and was only his.

I wish things could stay like this, Merlin thought to himself. I wish this was the Arthur that would stay with me forever. Merlin felt kind of guilty thinking that, considering how sick Arthur was. But Merlin definitely didn’t want that Arthur around forever. He wanted the peaceful Arthur. He wanted the relaxed Arthur. He wanted the Arthur who was no more than a man, free of the burdens he normally carried.

And he knew Arthur wanted that too.

***

Merlin continued to look after Arthur over the next few days. The king’s condition didn’t seem to deteriorate, but it didn’t appear to get any better, either. Merlin also still slept in the previously empty chambers next to Arthur’s, only returning to his own chambers for clothes and to bathe. He even ate in Arthur’s rooms, to ensure he could keep as close an eye on the king as possible. Part of Merlin couldn’t wait to move back into his own room. Another part of him, though, never wanted to leave.

On the fourth day of his illness Arthur woke up with a fever, as Gaius predicted he might. He was sweating and complaining it was too hot as he kicked off his sheets, saying damn it, Merlin, can’t you put that fire out? before starting to cough again.

“It’s a fever, Arthur,” Merlin whispered. “It will pass, Arthur, don’t worry. You just have to ride it out.” He sent a servant to inform Gaius of the king’s fever, and the boy returned with the news that the fever meant that Arthur’s body was fighting the illness off and it would soon pass.

“Did you hear that, Arthur?” said Merlin with a smile. “You’re nearly better. Not much longer, and you’ll be back to your normal self again.”

“Thank the gods,” Arthur muttered. “I don’t think I can stand much longer in this bed. And I won’t have to worry about this blasted cough.” As if on cue, the very coughs Arthur had spoken of took over his body again, and it was several long moments before they subsided again.

Merlin could help but laugh at the timing. “I don’t think I can stand having to play physician, either,” he admitted.

Because of Arthur’s fever, Merlin didn’t leave Arthur’s bedside at all that day. The king seemed rather more relaxed that day, which was a little puzzling to Merlin, but he didn’t bring it up. He didn’t want to encourage Arthur to talk.

Arthur’s body was covered in a thick sheen of sweat, and his golden coloured hair stuck to his forehead. He’d started off facing the opposite wall but had soon turned to face Merlin, remaining in that position all day, even as he began to lament that he was far too hot again and he could sleep because of it. If Merlin wasn’t mistaken, it was almost like Arthur was watching him.

Arthur’s fever broke in the late evening, Merlin discovered when he placed a hand tenderly on the king’s forehead. “You feel better?” he whispered.

“Hmm,” Arthur sighed, a small yet content smile on his face. “Quite.”

Merlin withdrew his hand, and Arthur’s smile disappeared. “I should go to bed,” he said.

“You’re leaving?” said Arthur, sounding strangely disappointed.

"I'll be in the chambers next to yours again, should you need me," Merlin promised. He was gripped by a desire to reach out and brush a clump of wet hair out of Arthur’s face, but he held back. "If... if you get any worse, call out for me, okay? If you can, I mean." Merlin turned to leave, but a hand reached out and weakly gripped his wrist. Arthur. "Sire?"

"Don't leave me," Arthur whispered pleadingly. His voice was so unlike anything Merlin had ever heard from him- so weak, so desperate. So unlike Arthur.

"I won't leave you," Merlin promised. "If you want me to stay, I'll stay. You know that."

"Don't leave me," Arthur whispered again. He tried to tighten his grip on Merlin's wrist, but he didn't have the strength to do so. He did manage to move over ever so slightly in his bed, so that there was room for someone to slide in next to him. A rather skinny someone.

"Oh," was all Merlin managed to say, when he realised what Arthur wanted. "Do you want me to...?"

Arthur nodded. "I- I need-" he started to say, but he was cut of by great heaving coughs wracking his body. He curled up as he coughed, one hand pressing to his chest as if to stop his lungs from escaping.

"It's okay, Arthur, it's okay," Merlin whispered soothingly, to stop Arthur from trying to speak again. Every time he did so, he starting coughing, which was why he had barely spoken after his illness had started to deteriorate. "You don't have to say it."

"You... you don't have to..." Arthur managed to get out once he'd finished coughing. That was what had decided it for Merlin. Arthur never, ever told Merlin he didn't have to do something he didn't want to. He slowly climbed onto the bed beside Arthur, careful not to jostle the sick king. "Merlin..."

"If it will make you feel better, and stop this horrible coughing, you don't even need to ask." Merlin moved around until he was fully on the bed, before gently moving Arthur so his head was resting on Merlin's chest. "Better?"

Arthur nodded, relaxing into Merlin. "Thank you," he whispered.

"You know, if I didn't already know you're sick, I would be wondering whether there was something wrong with you," Merlin commented. "You're using manners, you're asking me to do things rather than telling me, and you're actually giving me a choice as to whether I do them..." Merlin looked down at Arthur, but he said nothing. Instead the king burrowed further into Merlin's side, his silence answer enough. I'm sick, Merlin, give me a break.

"Merlin," Arthur said in as strong a voice as he could muster without coughing again.

"You should sleep, Arthur," Merlin chided. "You need it. It will help you recover, trust me."

"No, Merlin, I need..." Arthur swallowed, and at first Merlin thought it was because Arthur's throat was so raw he couldn't talk, but then he saw the expression on Arthur's face. Like he was struggling with what to say. "I need..."

"Arthur, if you don't stop talking I'm going to leave," Merlin warned. "This isn't good for you."

"No!" said Arthur, rather more loudly than he'd intended, and Merlin could see that he was struggling not to cough. "Stay with me," he said.

"I was just kidding, Arthur," Merlin promised. "I'm not going anywhere. Although if you don't try and get some sleep..."

"Don't leave me," Arthur said. Merlin linked his fingers with Arthur's in reassurance.

"Kiss me," Arthur said.

Merlin’s heart was pounding in his chest, and he had to fight the urge to immediately do as Arthur had requested. Merlin’s first thought was that he was hearing things. But then he looked down at the king's face, and saw the pleading look in his eyes. "I... you really want me to kiss you?" This was the first time he’d expressed desire like this towards Merlin. Ever. Or that Merlin had noticed, anyway. Maybe Arthur was delirious, or suffering a fever again. That would explain his words. Merlin put the back of his hand against Arthur's forehead. Nope, not warm.

Arthur shook his head under Merlin's hand to try and remove it. "Kiss me," he said again. "Merlin, please."

"You're delirious," said Merlin, more to convince himself of the fact than anything else.

At the crestfallen, almost heartbroken look on Arthur's face, Merlin wished he hadn't spoken. "I'm not," said Arthur, and as he spoke he withdrew his hand from Merlin's. "I promise you, Merlin, I'm not. It's not the illness talking, either. I don't have a fever again, I'm not hallucinating, I'm fully aware of what I'm saying. I want you to kiss me." Arthur took a deep breath, this having been the most words he'd said at once since he'd fallen ill. "Clearly you don't want to." Arthur turned away from Merlin, pulling away slightly from the sorcerer's side. He curled up, hugging his own chest for warmth.

Seeing Arthur like that, heartbroken and sick and withdrawing into himself, was something Merlin had never seen before and had never wanted to see. And it was his fault. His hands twitched, practically aching to reach out and pull Arthur close again and whisper assurances into his ear until he relaxed and he wasn't sad anymore. Arthur did want this. He really did. Arthur wanted Merlin.

"Arthur," he said, but the king gave no sign he'd even heard. "Arthur."

"What?" Arthur said, rather shortly, before being taken over by another coughing fit. Instead of hugging himself he pressed his arms into his chest, trying to keep himself still as his chest heaved. His eyes were screwed shut in obvious pain, and Merlin knew his throat would be scraped raw by now. He'd been coughing like this for two days now, after all.

Taken over by a sudden impulse, Merlin began stroking Arthur's golden hair, carding his fingers through it. Arthur tried to pull away, but as he continued to cough he stopped fighting, allowing Merlin to rub his back with his other hand to soothe him.

Finally, Arthur stilled again. "Will you just listen to me for once, you massive prat?" said Merlin, affectionate and exasperated all at once. One hand was still in Arthur's hair, and the other had moved to gently caress his shoulder. Arthur made no noise and no move to pull away, and so Merlin continued. "I didn't say that you were delirious because I didn't want to kiss you. I said it because I needed to be sure it's what you wanted."

Arthur was still motionless. "Merlin?" he whispered.

"I'm not... I'm not sure kissing you is the best idea right now, considering I don't know how contagious you still are, but..." again controlled by impulse, Merlin pressed his lips to the top of Arthur's head. "Don't you ever, ever think that I don't want to kiss you. Because that is not true." Merlin didn't know where this sudden boldness had come from, when it came to confessing things to Arthur, but he was going to take advantage of it. "I have wanted to kiss you for so long, I felt as if I would burst with the pain of it. But I know my place, and that is by your side as your servant and your sorcerer, and nothing more.  I never, ever, thought that I'd be wrong." Merlin heard Arthur take a deep, rattling breath as if to speak. "No. Don't say anything. I don't want you getting worse."

Instead of talking, then, Arthur reached up and took Merlin's hand that was tangled in Arthur's hair and moved it to his waist. "Stay with me," he said, both as an order and as a protest against what Merlin had said.

"Always," Merlin whispered in his ear. "I'll always stay."

***

Merlin awoke the next morning with his arms still around Arthur and the king's head on his chest. Arthur was still asleep, and the even rise and fall of his chest had Merlin hoping that he was over the worst of his illness. He had half a mind to wake Arthur, but he knew he needed his sleep. It was the best thing for him right now.

Instead Merlin managed to remove his arms from around Arthur without jostling the king, and clambered out of bed. He'd never gotten into his nightclothes the night before, having fallen asleep holding Arthur, and as such was still wearing his favoured blue tunic and red neckerchief. He sniffed at his clothes and crumpled his nose in disgust. Yep, he definitely needed a change of clothes. And a wash. That was what happened when he had to spend all of his time looking after a very sick king. (And holding him as he slept. There was that, too.)

Shivering slightly, Merlin decided the best thing to do would be to light a fire, so that was what he did, letting it burn merrily in the hearth. The warmth would definitely help with Arthur’s recovery. Before Merlin could do much else, though, there was a knock at the chamber doors. Merlin glanced over at Arthur worriedly, but the king slept on. Moving quietly, Merlin went to see who was there.

“Gaius,” he whispered, seeing the physician through the slim opening in the door. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to check on Arthur, like always,” Gaius said, more than a little confused. “Are you still wearing the same clothes from yesterday?”

“Oh! Yes, right. Arthur wanted me to stay in here last night and make sure he didn’t cough up a lung in his sleep or something, so I did,” said Merlin. That sounded a little believable, at least. “Prat doesn’t know how to take no for an answer, wouldn’t even let me get changed,” he added for good measure.

Gaius raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that Arthur should be over the worst of his illness, and should recover within the next few days if he stays warm and doesn’t do anything too strenuous. And he shouldn’t be contagious anymore.”

“Good,” said Merlin, rather more loudly than he intended. He looked back into the rooms with a worried glance, before turning back to Gaius. “Arthur’s still sleeping,” he explained. “I figured it was the best thing for him, so I didn’t want to wake him. I’d, uh, prefer if you didn’t wake him, either. You know how he is. He’ll probably get grumpy, so I reckon it’s best to let him sleep.” Merlin knew he was rambling, but he just couldn’t help himself.

“Probably a good idea,” Gaius agreed. He was studying Merlin with that knowing look of his, and Merlin couldn’t help but think that Gaius had known all along.

“I, uh, have to get back to Arthur,” Merlin stammered.

“Of course,” said Gaius, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Tell him I hope he’s feeling better.”

“I will,” Merlin promised, before closing the door and leaning against it, sighing heavily.

“Merlin?” a voice whispered. Merlin moved back into the other room, only to find Arthur awake and looking around for him. The king breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back against his pillows and closing his eyes. “You’re still here.”

“Of course I am,” said Merlin, moving closer to the bed and kneeling down beside Arthur. “You asked me to stay, so I stayed.”

“I woke up and you were gone, so I thought…” Arthur trailed off, looking at Merlin almost apologetically. “I can see I should not have doubted you.”

“I merely got up to light a fire, and before I could do anything else Gaius showed up at your door to check on you,” Merlin explained. “And of course you should’ve have doubted me. You said you’d kiss me.”

“Oh, so that’s what I need to do to get you to actually do something, is it?” said Arthur. “I’ll remember that.”

Merlin smiled. “You sound like you’re a lot better.”

“I feel better,” said Arthur. “My throat doesn’t hurt anymore, and I don’t feel like I’m going to cough every single time I speak. That fire is helping, too.”

“Gaius did say you should be over the worst of your illness, and you should be fully recovered within the next few days if you don’t do anything too strenuous,” said Merlin. “He also said you shouldn’t be contagious anymore.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Does that mean I can have my kiss, now?” Arthur asked with a small, cocky smile.

“Arthur, that is the one thing you never have to ask,” said Merlin, before leaning in and pressing his lips to his king’s.

“Merlin?” said Arthur when they broke apart. “Stay with me. Stay here, all day. Don’t leave. I’ll get someone else to do your chores.”

“Okay, maybe there’s two things you never have to ask me,” Merlin admitted, before kissing Arthur again.

And stay Merlin did.

 

 


End file.
